You Can Trust Us!
by EchoResonance
Summary: When Soul refuses for the umpteenth time to play piano for his friends, he says something that he doesn't think about. But when it gets back to his friends, they're hurt. Can Soul fix things, before anything irreparable takes place?


_**Wow, I never expected people to get such a kick out of my stories, I've gotten more faves and reviews than I could imagine. I'm glad you guys are liking my work, I wasn't sure how it was going to go over. Thanks for following me, you guys!**_

…_**.**_

Maka's being stubborn again. I've _told_ her I don't like playing the piano. Not with people around. But she just doesn't _get_ it. She doesn't get _why_ I don't like an audience. I was judged enough when I was younger for the way I play. Heaven, Hell, and Earth and all the damn spaces in between, I was _disowned_ because I "was reckless and careless and thoughtless and I should treat music as something with feelings, because it has them". What the Hell kind of reason was _that_ to disown your youngest kid? But my parents had done it. I don't need anybody else's judgment on my music.

But Maka…Maka refuses to listen.

"Come on, Soul!" she insists, tugging on my arm. "Just one song! Please?"

"I told you no Maka!" I snap, jerking free of her grip. "No still means no, doesn't it?"

She frowned. "Why won't you play? You know you're good, and I know that the others will like it too."

I rake a hand through my shock of white hair in agitation. Why, oh _why_, had I ever played for her in the first place? Look where it's gotten me! Badgered constantly, _"Soul, play for me" _or _"Soul, just one time!"_ Leave me _alone_ lady!

She must sense my emotions in my soul wavelength, because she halts abruptly, her hand falling back to her side. The look on her face confuses me. Is it disappointment? No, I've seen enough of that to be able to tell that that wasn't it.

"Soul," she says softly. "Nobody here will judge you for your music. Don't you know that?"

I blink, then look away.

"No, Maka, I don't know that," I sigh finally. "And neither do you."

"We aren't your parents, Soul," she answered, voice still quiet. Something in her voice makes me look around, but her face is impassive now. I wish I can read her wavelengths the way she can read mine. "I _do_ know that, no matter what they think of your music, your friends will _never_ cast you away."

I turn my back on her, and throw my last words over my shoulder.

"Y'see, Maka, I still don't believe that."

…

It's been days since Maka's spoken to me. Something I had said that night really seems to be eating at her. My other friends, too, are acting weird. Weirder than is strictly normal, I mean. Tsubaki keeps giving sad looks, but when I ask her, she says nothing's wrong. Liz and Blackstar keep looking at me as though fantasizing about ripping my head from my shoulders. Pati's oblivious. Kid's just quieter than normal, but that in itself speaks volumes.

And Maka…Maka seems depressed. She won't talk to me, but I see the glances she throws my way when she thinks I'm not paying attention. Depressed, hurt, maybe a little angry. They've all been lurking in her eyes. I can't even read her soul's wavelength. Not at all. She's set up a wall around it, blocking me completely.

I feel like shit. I'm sure Maka told the others whatever I had said that bothered her. It explains a lot, at least. But what on earth had I said to make them act like this? So I refused to play the piano. Again. That's nothing _new_.

Finally, after a week of what amounts to isolation, Tsubaki approaches me. I'm out on the park's basketball court, shooting hoops, when her soft voice comes from the sidelines.

"Can I call a time out?" Tsubaki jokes. I tucked my ball under my arm and go over to her. Her hair isn't in its usual ponytail—it's in a long, fancy-looking braid. A French braid, I think it was called. She's wearing khaki capris that go to just about her knee, and a navy blue tank top that almost matches her eyes.

"What's up, Tsubaki?" I ask. She knows what I mean, and gestures for me to walk with her.

For a while, she talks about little things, nothing really important. How the birds all seem to sing in harmony. How funny the sun looks in the evening as it tries to fight sleep. How adorable little kids are, drawing on the sidewalk with colored chalk. Anything, everything, but why they are all acting like I am a pariah. Finally I stop, take her by the elbow, and spin her around to face me.

"What did I do to piss everyone off?" I demand. Tsubaki blinks in surprise and gently wrests her arm from my grip, which I realize is too tight when she discreetly rubs the area my hand had closed around. "Sorry," I add.

"Nobody is angry with you, Soul," Tsubaki starts slowly, looking around as though expecting a contradiction to explode from a tree.

"Could've fooled me," I snort.

She sighs sadly.

"We're all just…a little hurt."

I frowned. "Why? What the Hell did I do?"

She's biting her lip, looking anywhere but at me. But when she opens her mouth, she responds to my question with one of her own.

"Why don't you trust us, Soul?"

Any sharp retort I may have had flees my mind. I'm left staring, dumbfounded, at Tsubaki, who is looking at a spot slightly above my head. My mouth is probably hanging open, but I can't remember how to close it. They think…they think I don't _trust_ them?

"I—I do!" I shout, finding my voice. "What the Hell makes you think I don't?"

She looks up now, and her eyes are shining. She gives me another sad smile.

"If you haven't figured it out yet, it isn't my place to say," she says, and turns to leave.

"What the fuck kind of cryptic remark is that?" I snap. She looks over her shoulder.

"This is one thing, Soul, where no one else is going to give you the answer. You'll have to find it yourself. You're smart, you can do it."

And she walks off through the park.

…..

"Maka," I call through her door. It's the first time in two weeks I've tried to talk to my meister since I figured out that we weren't on speaking terms. Her door opens almost instantly, albeit only a crack. One shadowed green eye is all I can see through the small opening. She doesn't say anything.

"Maka, can I talk to you?" I ask, feeling really lame.

"You already are," she points out, but opens her door all the way. I step into her room, immediately going to sit on her bed. She sits in the chair at her desk, regarding me coolly. No emotion flickers on her face, and no fault appears in what I've come to call her own version of Soul Protect.

"What did I do to make you guys so upset?" I say without preamble. The sooner I get to the point, the sooner I can get to a solution. Her eyes flash like green steel.

"Tsubaki told me you asked her about it a few days ago. You didn't get it?" her voice is cold, but it's improvement from silence. I think.

"All I got was basically a cryptic way to say 'figure it out yourself'. No, I didn't 'get it'." I say sourly.

"She didn't tell you that you made us all feel rather insulted? She didn't say that we all felt like we weren't trustworthy?"

I flinch, both at her words, and the tone with which she is delivering them. She is furious, hurt, and offended.

"Insulted?" I sputter. "Not trustworthy? What the Hell, Maka? What the fuck did you tell them that made them think like that?"

Her gaze was dark, burning with rage.

"I told them exactly what you told me that night."

"I never said—I couldn't say—I _do_ trust you guys!" I choke, feeling so lost and confused.

Maka's eyes spark, and a small part of me is surprised I haven't caught fire yet. She smiles and laughs, but there is no humor in it. The sound is cold and hard, the image brittle as thin ice.

"Y'see, Soul, I still don't believe that."

She throws my words back at me, and with them rushes the realization of what I'd said that night. She stands and strides out of the room, leaving me sitting, stunned, on her plain yellow comforter. I hear the front door open and then slam shut.

Maka had told me that night that none of my friends would cast me away, that none of them would abandon me. Ever. And what was my response? I said I didn't believe her. That I didn't believe that they'd never push me away. Basically, I'd said that I didn't trust them. What a fool I was. What a fool I _am_.

My friends, who have been there right beside me through every damn thing that happens, who have always stood by me, no matter how wrong I've been. My best friends, who would sooner kill themselves than let another of us get hurt, myself included. My _best friends,_ who would never have said what I did. Who would never have said that they didn't trust _me_. Whom I had said I didn't trust.

I'm not a fool. I'm an ass. The biggest goddamn dumbass this world has ever seen. What have I _done_?

What am I going to do? I have to fix this, I _have_ to. But _how_?

One thing comes to mind. I'll have to swallow my pride, but that's a better alternative than losing everybody I care about.

…

I stretch and crack my knuckles. They'll all be here soon, wondering why on earth I told them to meet me at the Academy's ballroom. I look down, stroking the glossy black grand piano that is situated on one corner of the stage. It's amazing workmanship, well crafted. Intricate, vine-like designs crawl across the edges. The bench has the same markings on its burnished surface.

"Soul?" calls a voice. I look around. Liz and Pati come in, followed closely by Kid. Tsubaki and Blackstar come in next. I watch the entrance, but no one else comes in.

"Where's Maka?" I ask, although the stone that drops in my stomach tells me I already now. Liz raises an eyebrow, but it is Kid who replies.

"She said she wasn't coming. No matter what you played."

She knew I was going to play. Her refusal to come, when she _knew_, cut me like a knife. Still, I had the other five here. Might as well make the most of it.

I sit down without another word, hands resting on the keys. I can almost feel the energy from the instrument. When I play, it's like the piano is an extension of myself. I lose myself. I love it. But not in front of people. It makes me feel too vulnerable. But I've already resolved to do this. And I won't change my mind.

And I begin to play. A sharp gasp from Liz tells me that I have their attention as I pound away at the keys, pulling out a tune so chaotic, and yet so harmonious, that I can hold others spellbound. If they like it. But serialism, the twelve-tone technique, is favored by few people. They don't like the notes all being played equally, arranged in every possible way _except_ the way that fits. Organized chaos, this is what I call it.

Quickly I forget about my audience, pouring all of my jumbled emotions out into the keys. Confusion, guilt, anger, and fear. Confusion at what had been going on at first, then as what I'd said clicked. Guilt, that I'd let my friends believe I thought so damn little of them. Anger, for the same reason. And fear. Fear for the realization that they wouldn't have to leave—I might just drive them away. Fear that I could lose my best friends forever. Fear that, no matter what anybody said, everyone I care about will someday leave me because of my dark side. Fear that, somehow, I will lose the person that means more to me than life itself. And she isn't even here.

The music ends, and I feel a little more at peace, but only a little.

Then loud clapping startles me and I whip around, nearly tripping over the piano bench in my surprise. I had forgotten they were there. Liz and Pati and Kid and Tsubaki and Blackstar are all clapping, grinning like idiots.

"I'm sorry, guys," I say ashamedly, when they die down a little. "I never meant I didn't trust you. I just…I don't trust myself. I freaked because I thought that I'd drive you away. My parents made me…well, thanks to them, I really don't like showing myself."

To my utter humiliation, they laugh.

"Soul, we're a lot crazier than your parents!" Liz laughs, wiping away a tear.

"Yeah!" Pati shouts, pounding the floor with her fists. "Music doesn't scare us!"

"Good luck driving away a guy as big as me, dude," Blackstar chuckles. "You don't stand a chance."

"Soul, it was beautiful," Tsubaki says, a little more graciously. "Don't be so self conscious."

"Yes, the symmetry of the peace was astounding," Kid congratulated. "All notes played exactly the same amount. Perfect balance."

I roll my eyes. Of course, Kid only cares about how 'symmetrical' the music is. Still, I'm relieved that nobody seemed to think it was disturbing or just downright awful. My eyes scan over all of them. All of my best friends. All but one.

Just like that, my good mood vanishes. Everyone senses the change immediately, and apparently it's a Reaper gift to be able to read minds, because Kid speaks up.

"She was heading for the roof when we split up, though I suspect she may have headed back to your apartment by now."

I nod my thanks and take off, tearing through the school to the stairs and taking them three at a time. My legs are screaming at me, my lungs burning, by the time I reach the roof, but I don't pause in throwing open the door. A figure at the railing jumps when the door slams into the wall, but she doesn't look around. Her ashy blonde hair is loose around her shoulders, swirling in the light wind.

"Maka," I say softly. She doesn't look around, and I approach her cautiously. I put a hand on her shoulder, but she shakes it off. "Maka, I'm sorry. I don't think you guys are untrustworthy. Any of you."

Maka scoffs angrily.

"And you think playing one song for everyone makes it all better?" she says frigidly. I wince, but I refuse to back down. This is one instance where she can't cow me.

"No, because I didn't play for _everyone_," I begin. "Someone neglected to show, so _someone_ missed the apology and explanation as well."

"This wasn't something you should ever have had to apologize for, Soul," she answers. "Did you really think that way? Did you really believe that someday we'd forget all about you, and just stop caring?"

To be honest? I haven't got a single damn clue. At some point, early on, yeah, I thought that I knew no relationships could ever last, be they family, friend, or more. At some point, sure, I prepared myself to get dropped by my 'friends' because they would surely get tired of me. And yet, that hasn't happened. It never happened. Not once in the extensive time I'd known Blackstar, or in the slightly less extensive time I'd known the others. Even in the very limited time with Maka, it hasn't happened. And yet, somewhere inside me I've always been afraid of it. Of rejection. It had taken two weeks of alienation from my friends to teach me that rejection just isn't in their vocabulary. Neither is abandonment. They'll never leave me high and dry, like I've quietly feared for years.

All of these thoughts pass through my head in the blink of an eye, and Maka's still beside me, watching the city, waiting for a response. One I can finally give. I'm through with always being afraid of rejection. I'm tired of hiding behind my too-cool-to-care pretenses. I'm done.

"Honestly, Maka?" I finally whisper. My voice is hoarse and thick, and she turns to see why. "I have no fucking idea what I thought."

Then my hands are sliding around her waist, I'm leaning down, eyes drifting close, and my lips just brush hers. She jumps in surprise, and I make to pull back, but she grabs a fistful of my shirt and holds me where I am, mouth slanted over hers. Her fingers slide up into my hair, tangling there and pulling me closer. I part my lips against hers and nip gently at her bottom one. She sucks in a sharp breath, and her arms slide all the way around my neck as mine do her waist. I break away from her mouth, feathering kisses along her jaw line to her ear.

"But I know," I whisper, and she shivers as my lips brush the delicate shell. "that I don't think that anymore."

I give her earlobe a playful nip and let my mouth travel farther down, to the curve of her neck. I kiss her skin, then draw a fold of it into my mouth, worrying it carefully with my sharp teeth. She gasps my name, and I smirk, releasing the skin with a swipe of my tongue. I pause a moment to admire the dull red mark, but no more than a moment, because Maka pulls me back around to her lips. It's her turn, as her lips part over mine, her tongue darting shyly along my lower lip. Obligingly my lips part as well, my own tongue sliding out to meet hers. She shivers, and the sound she makes this time is more of a moan as I pull her tightly to me, marveling in the way this small girl fits perfectly to my hard chest.

A door crashing open breaks us apart. We look around, still in each others' arms, and see Blackstar lying flat on his face on the floor; behind him are Liz, Tsubaki, Pati, and Kid. Liz looks about ready to hyperventilate with triumph, Pati's cackling like a madman, and Tsubaki is smiling hugely. Kid has both eyebrows raised, but he also wears a big grin. When Blackstar climbs to his feet, he's bright red with excitement.

"Yahoo!" he shouts, punching the air with both fists. "You two finally got some balls!"

I don't know how it happened. All I know is that one second, Blackstar is jumping around like a blue monkey, shouting his glee, and the next, he crumpled in the fountain with a smoking crater in his head. I look down at Maka to find she's holding a large book in one hand; the other arm still holds my neck.

I scoff.

"Perverts," I snort. "You know, listening at keyholes is rude. It's considered eavesdropping, and you know what they say about those kind of people."

Maka sniffs in disbelief.

"Hypocrite. You're seriously calling someone else perverts? How many times have I caught you staring north or south of the equator?"

I give her a blank look.

"Huh? What does geography have to do with anything?"

She sighs, and I hear Liz do the same. Pati's still laughing. Tsubaki gives a quiet little titter.

"Okay, I'll try a different term. How many times have I caught you mentally groping my boobs or my ass?"

I flush bright red and hold up my hands in surrender.

"Hey, that's different!" I protest. She laughs.

"I don't see _how_."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Want me to show you?"

"Go ahead and try," she dares.

In my peripheral I see the others bolting, turning various shades of pink and red. Not a moment too soon, either, because my arms lash out and pin Maka firmly to my chest. She squeaks and tries to squirm free, but I don't let her. My hands slide down her sides, past her hips, and cup the firm mounds of her ass, pulling her hard against me. She squeaks again, but before she can protest, I lean my head down and capture her mouth with mine, devouring and pillaging every recess I can find with my tongue. She melts against my chest as I stroke her cheeks, trembling slightly with pleasure.

Her protests when I move my hands are cut short when she realizes where I'm moving my hands to. She lets out a delicious breathy moan when I gently begin massaging her breasts, kneading and pressing. Her hands slide from where they lay against my chest, trailing lazily down to the front of my jeans, which now has a noticeable tent. The tightness in my abdomen curls and strengthens as she strokes my clothed excitement until I let out a groan of my own, and pull away.

"I think…" I pant, hands sliding down her arms to lock with hers. "That we'd…better stop…til we get home."

She nods, interlacing her fingers with mine, and without another word, we leave for the apartment. We'll be up all night, and without a doubt I'll fall asleep in class tomorrow, but maybe Maka will have mercy. I'll be able to talk her into a little less abuse, surely. I can be _very_ persuasive when I want to be…

…..

_**And…done! Oh, are you angry 'cause I cut off your smut before they did the deed? My bad, but you know what they say: good things come to those who wait… ;)**_


End file.
